


Piccadilly

by anb123



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anb123/pseuds/anb123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: fic where niall is a famous pop star who takes the tube every chance he can get, mostly because it’s one aspect of his life that makes him feel more normal and harry’s the cute college student who also takes the tube, has absolutely no clue who niall is, so when niall grins at him from the other side of the car, harry just thinks niall’s a normal lad flirting with him by niallharold on Tumblr.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Famous Niall & uni student Harry meet on the tube. Life ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piccadilly

**Author's Note:**

> (Sorry this is unedited. I just loved the prompt. Started writing. This is where we ended up. Now I'm sleepy)

They first laid eyes on each other on a Wednesday in October.

 

 

 

It was always a bit tricky for Niall, figuring out the best time to pop on the Underground. Mornings were no good. Both his claustrophobia and fame prevented him from riding 7AM - 10AM, not really like he had anywhere to go most days during those hours. Afternoon could be a bit tricky as well. From about 15:00 until 19:00 the tube was filled with teenagers done with school for the day and then commuters. Again, no good. Late morning and early afternoon were usually key, which is why he found himself jogging down the steps at South Kensington station just shortly before noon. 

 

He despised the Piccadilly line. Its navy blue path taunting him. It was so long, so boring. Although, he had to admit, he fought back a chuckle each time the recording reminded him he was on the train to _Cockfosters_. I mean, Cockfosters? Really?

 

Niall was en route to Arsenal. He’d been invited for a kickabout with Jack Wilshere, Danny Welbeck and The Ox, three professional footballers, all his age. He was buzzing with excitement. It’d been ages since he’d gotten a chance at some footie, though the lads would likely destroy him. Regardless, it’d been a while since he’d made the trek to Emirates Stadium. He was looking forward to it.

 

The train was slightly crowded, and he decided to make himself scarce in the corner of the carriage. Lots of people got off at Knightsbridge. Tourists, he assumed, making their way to Harrod’s to look at items they couldn’t afford amongst people they couldn’t tolerate.

 

He shrugged to himself.

 

Their exodus had created room for him to grab a seat, no one next to him, as he settled in for the remaining 12 stops. His phone had no service between stations and 2048 wasn’t holding his attention, maths being the last thing he was interested in right now. He chose to people watch instead.

 

Looking up, Niall saw a guy around his age, sitting across from him. He had curly brown hair, a panama hat on his head, headphones in his ears as he bobbed gently to his music. Niall smiled, an uncommon gesture in the stuffy and robotic etiquette of the tube. The boy raised his eyebrows and smiled back. 

 

 

Harry was pleased. He’d caught the eye of the cute blond on the tube. Harry had noticed him right away, of course, if only because he was patient when Harry’s mis-tapped his Oyster Card at the South Ken entrance, causing a bit of a holdup. They’d boarded the train together and while Harry stuck to the middle of the carriage, hovering and waiting for a seat, the blond had made his way to the corner, giving Harry more time to _discreetly_ watch him.

 

Harry noticed the brunette roots, the skinny jeans and trainers, the striped shirt and relaxed fit jacket. He also noticed the gym bag, seemingly filled the brim, no doubt with athletic paraphernalia for where the lad was en route to or coming from. He’d looked vaguely familiar. Maybe he’d seen him at the gym before. Or maybe he was a pro footballer. He seemed a bit slight to be a rugby player, but you never know. All kinds of rich and famous people wandered around South Ken. Harry was neither. He couldn’t afford an SE9 South Kensington address. He was business student at Imperial College right in the heart of the ritzy neighborhood. He took the tube to and from classes, back to his small flat in Finsbury Park, cosy and decently priced. Not in Zone 1 by any means, but comfortable nonetheless. He and his roommate Jeff enjoyed it.

 

Harry watched the blond take a selfie and snorted to himself. Someone obviously doesn’t ride the The Underground often, he thought. They made eye contact again, the blond flushing a bit in embarrassment at being caught taking the photo. Harry just shrugged at him and winked. He’d take public transit selfies as well if he was that fit.

 

Niall grinned and the two finished the ride in silence, but exchanging subtle glances, until Niall departed at Arsenal, and Harry followed one stop later at Finsbury Park. 

 

 

 

**

 

 

They spoke for the first time on a Tuesday in November.

 

 

 

The beginnings of the holiday season were spreading through London. For Harry, it meant exams. For Niall, it meant Christmas concerts, specials, and promo. They were both stressed. For this reason, Niall had done a bit of training with the Arsenal boys. It was too cold to muck about on the pitch, but they had excellent gym facilities that Niall happily utilised without having to be under public scrutiny at the gym. 

 

Harry had gotten on the tube at Finsbury Park, as per usual and settled in for the ride to South Kensington. He was cutting it close, class starting in just over a half hour. Niall was leisurely walking toward the platform when he heard the train approach. He picked up his pace, jogging toward the doors and hurling himself through them just as they closed, moving on towards Holloway Road. He’d just made it. Slightly out of breath, he plopped in the nearest available seat to collect himself, sitting on the bloke next to him’s coattail in the process.

 

“Sorry, mate,” he breathed, turning to the stranger. It was the brunette. The one from a few weeks back, on this exact train, actually. What were the odds? About 12 trains passed through the station every _hour_. Weird. But there was no doubt in Niall’s mind that it was the same guy. Curly hair. Green eyes. Same dumb black panama hat. 

 

Harry smiled. “S’alright. Didn’t reckon I’d see you on here again. I’d take those blue eyes over my coat, anyway.” He grinned. People barely even looked at each other on the tube. Here he was, blatantly flirting with this straight boy ( _really_ with the backwards snapback. Where is he going in that?)

 

Niall blushed and shook his head slightly. “And they say people aren’t friendly on the tube,” He muttered with a smile, confirming Harry’s initial assumption that this guy didn’t take public transit all that often. Harry did learn something new though. The bloke was Irish. Wicked.

 

The two settled into silence, Harry slipping his earbuds in, but conspicuously leaving the right one out, in case the fit blond decided to talk to him again. 

 

Niall studied his phone, double checking his calendar to confirm that his dinner plans weren’t until half 7. It was minutes to 14:00. He had plenty of time to get home. Sleep a bit. Watch some telly, maybe. Just relax. 

 

A familiar riff reached his ears and he looked down at the buzzing earbud of the cute guy next to him. He was listening to _Gimme Shelter_ , the most classic of classic anthems. He idly wondered if he could ever get away with singing _Rape, murder!_ like Mick Jagger did. Wailing about injustices of the Vietnam War. Although, today it’d be Iraq or Syria or something, he supposed. 

 

“Classic Stones,” Niall said to the boy next to him. Merry Clayton’s vocals are amazing on that track. Unmatched.”

 

Harry started. “Sorry. Too loud?” He fumbled to turn down the volume. Niall shook his head with a shrug.

 

“Don’t bother me,” he said easily. “Great song. Powerful message and that too.”

 

Harry grinned. “I love Mick,” he said.

 

Niall squinted. “Bit vain, that,” he smirked and Harry looked at him bewildered. “ _C’mon_. I can’t be the only one who’s told you you look a bit like a young Mick.”

 

Harry shrugged. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

 

Niall smirked again. “It was.”

 

Harry smiled timidly and the two fell into a silence again. Niall didn’t miss Harry replaying the song when it finished. Harry couldn’t help but hope that Niall was getting off at South Ken, where he got on last time.

 

Niall stood up at Knightsbridge and Harry cursed to himself, thinking the blond was departing the train. Really, he’d just been situating himself closer to the doors, as Knightsbridge came and went. They were approaching South Kensington. Harry stood up as well, moving next to Niall. 

 

“Not stalking you. Promise,” he smiled. “Got uni.” 

 

Niall grinned. “And here I thought I’d have to call security,” he quipped.

 

Harry smiled. “Yeah right. London police wouldn’t even show up for a celebrity. Soz pal,” he grinned and Niall faltered. Did Harry not know who he was?

 

Niall chose not to mention in and they walked off the train and up the steps together. Leaving the station, they both realised they were turning right and began making their way down Princes Gate. “Do you go to Imperial as well then?” 

 

Niall shook his head. “Live in the area.”

 

Harry tried his best to hide his reaction. The only people who just ‘lived in the area’ were rich as hell. The neighborhood was run with wealthy executives and diplomats. Of course. Just his luck, he’d fall for some posh kid. Maybe he was the son of the Irish ambassador or something. 

 

“I’m this way,” Niall said, at the next corner. “Nice walking with you.” He smiled politely and nodded.

 

Harry nodded as well. “I’m Harry,” by the way, he introduced himself.

 

“Niall,” Niall said, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll run into you again on the tube, yeah?”

 

Harry smiled, but didn’t want to leave it up to chance. “I get on at Finsbury Park every Tuesday at 1:45.” He blushed, embarrassed.

 

Niall grinned. “Schedule’s a bit busy right now. What about Fridays?” 

 

Harry shrugged. “I only have one class. Early. I usually get the tube from here at 10:30 to go back home and sleep.”

 

Niall let out a low whistle. “No shit that is early,” he said. “If you can spare a few minutes so I can pop into Starbucks for a proper wake up, I’ll ride back with you as far as Arsenal. Deal?” 

Harry grinned. “Deal.”

 

 

**

 

 

They had their first date on a Friday in January.

 

 

 

“Have a happy Christmas?” Niall asked, greeting Harry with the normal chai tea, as he took a sip of his flat white.

 

Harry nodded and accepted the tea in thanks. Niall turned the leave the coffee shop and head towards the tube station when Harry reached out and grabbed his sleeve, directing him to a table in the corner.

 

“You’ve bought me tea for about eight weeks now. Then we ride the tube. And I see you again the next week. Today, we’re sitting down for a proper date, above ground, thank you. I’ll go order us some scones.” Harry nodded with finality and made his way over to the queue. Niall stared at him with a daft grin. Amazing. 

 

Harry returned to the table with four scones, two blueberry, two orange cranberry. “There was a chocolate chip one as well, but you seem like you’re lacking on fruit and veg.”

 

Niall scoffed. “Calling me fat, then? Will this is a shit first date isn’t it?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut up. You’re always munching on Jaffa Cakes on the tube. Not exactly a balanced diet is it?” Niall shrugged.

 

“So. You want to date me, yeah?” he asked.

 

Harry smirked. “Well. We’ll see how this one goes. Realised I dunno much about you. You let me do the talking mostly.”

 

Niall shrugged again. “You know I like the Stones. I go to Arsenal a lot. And I live in South Ken. And my best mate is also called Niall.” 

 

Harry stared at him. “Riveting. What else kind of music do you like? Why are you always in Arsenal? What do you do? You don’t go to Imperial. Arsenal isn’t the closet stop the London Met. Finsbury Park is. So you don’t go there either.”

 

Niall sipped his coffee. “I play footie in Arsenal at the stadium,” he said easily. “Got well connected mates. I like all kinds of music. Classic rock like the Stones of The Eagles, but also poppy sounding stuff. Was a massive boy band fan, idolised Justin Bieber at one point. Saw Beyonce at the O2 last year. I love music. I’m a musician.” 

 

Harry hummed. “Would I know any of your songs?”

 

Niall snorted. “Apparently not.”

 

The conversation flowed from there. Niall accepted that Harry was the uni student from Cheshire who stressed over exams, a bit of a swot, had his own style, and lived in a flat in Finsbury Park with his mate, Jeff. Harry accepted that Niall was quite well off, but preferred Tesco to Waitrose. He had friends who let him play football at Emirates Stadium and he knew more about music than anyone Harry had ever met.

 

 

**

 

 

They fought on a Monday in February.

 

 

 

“I love your flat,” Niall said, sinking himself further into Harry’s sofa. “It’s like home away from home away from home.”

 

Harry snorted. “Ah. Third place. Behind Ireland and South Kensington,” he smiled. “And here I thought my lowly Zone 2 flat was your favourite place.”

 

Niall laughed reaching his arms out for his boyfriend to come have a cuddle in front of the telly. “It is right now. Flight was bloody long.”

 

Harry frowned. “Missed you. No more Australia.”

 

Niall grinned. “Had family and bit of work to do. Soz for Oz.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Back now though.” He grabbed Harry by the collar and kissed him, their lips moving in sync as if no time had passed at all. Niall still couldn’t believe he was kissing the cute uni student from the tube.

 

Harry’s hands moved under Niall’s shirt, feeling around his torso when the door to the flat opened and Niall buried his face in Harry’s chest, embarrassed at being caught.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Jeff said, and Harry tossed a pillow at him. “Wait. Do I finally get to meet the elusive Niall? Should come home early more often.”

 

Niall groaned, still embarrassed. “Speaking of,” Jeff said, waiting for Niall to collect himself and turn around. “Got two tickets to the Naroh Nilserb concert next month. They just got back from their Australian leg. Apparently it’s a sick show.”

 

Niall sat up abruptly then and spun to face Jeff who immediately dropped the bag he was holding. 

 

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Your boyfriend Niall is Niall Horan of Naroh Nilserb? What the fuck, Harry!”

 

Harry sat up and looked at Niall. “What? You two know each other?”

 

“Shit.” Niall frowned and stared at his boyfriend. “I should’ve told you…”

 

Harry looked from Jeff to Niall and back. “Told me what? Did you two date? What’s going on?” He was so confused. Confused about why Niall was acting so strangely and why Jeff was standing in the doorway dumbstruck in awe.

 

“I’m in a band,” Niall shrugged. “Me mate called Niall? Niall Breslin. The other half of Naroh Nilserb,” Niall said. Harry just stared at him. “It’s Horan and Breslin spelled backwards,” he added quietly. “We sing and play guitar.” He shrugged. “I just thought you knowing would complicate things.”

 

Harry kept staring. “You lied to me?”

 

Niall shook his head immediately. “No! I just… wasn’t open about my job. It isn’t a big deal. But when I realised you didn’t know who I was, it was nice. We were just two lads on the tube who fancied each other.”

 

Harry was shocked. He felt vaguely betrayed. Niall obviously didn’t trust him. Either that or he was ashamed. Why else would he keep the whole rockstar life a secret? Sure, Harry wasn’t completely up on popular culture and what was hip and cool and trendy. He wore his hats and printed button downs and boots. He listened to music from the ‘60s and ‘70s and watched American crime dramas on the telly when he wasn’t studying intensely for uni. He wasn’t exactly in touch with the world around him, but he still deserved to _know_. 

 

It wasn’t like he wouldn’t run off to _The Sun_ or _The Daily Mail_. He wasn’t about to post pictures of Niall asleep or at the breakfast table for all the world to see. So why didn’t he just tell him?

 

“I didn’t want you dragged into the spotlight,” Niall pleaded, still talking. “You made me feel normal and happy and… and loved.”

 

Harry frowned. “You should go. I need to think,” he said. “You should be able to find the tube from here,” he added meanly and Niall sighed, grabbing his coat and leaving.

 

 

**

 

The started over on a Saturday in March

 

 

 

Niall didn’t want to go to the after party, his home away from home after party in London. He just wanted to go _home_. Back to South Kensington as least and sleep. He had a day off before he needed to be in Manchester and he was exhausted.

 

He decided to take the tube home. He did that sometimes. In the six weeks since things with Harry dissolved, he found himself occasionally popping on the train, hoping to see green eyes and brown curls. He waited at Starbucks on Friday mornings with no luck. He took the train one stop past Arsenal, to Finsbury Park, hoping to catch a busy Imperial student. He never did.

 

He had to move quickly. The Tube closed at midnight, and since he’d been forced to say hellos after the show, it was now past 23:00. He managed to catch the Jubilee line at North Greenwich. The Jubilee line was actually his favourite, with its silver detailing and modern updates, including safety glass. He got off at Green Park to catch the Piccadilly line to South Kensington. Of course, it was delayed. Track work resulting in service disruptions. The fucking Piccadilly Line. Navy blue and annoying. 

 

He sat on the bench on the deserted platform, waiting for the train to come. Across the way there was a huge advert for the Naroh Nilserb concert he’d just played, his face blown up to five times its actual size, eyes closed, head thrown back as he played the guitar, Bressie across from him microphone in hand. How embarrassing. 

 

“Your hair looks bad in that picture,” a voice said. “Flat.” He turned and saw Harry sitting on the next bench over and his eyes lit up. “Show wasn’t even that great. Reckon I should get my money back.”

 

Niall was speechless. Harry was there. A few metres away. Talking to him. “You went?” He asked.

 

Harry shrugged. “Jeff got the tickets. Couldn’t find anyone else.”

 

Niall rolled his eyes. “Why are you over here? Train to Finsbury Park is on the other side.” 

 

Harry shrugged. “Really couldn’t deal with the signs to Cockfosters. I’ll go over when I hear it coming.”

 

Niall snorted and then they looked at each other unflinchingly. “I’m sorry, Harry. I should’ve told you about,” he gestured towards the advert. “I just liked that you liked me for me and all that cliched poor little popstar shite.”

 

Harry sighed, stook up and walked over to Niall. “I’m Harry. I’m in uni at Imperial. Studying business.”

 

Niall grinned. “I’m Niall. I’m one half of Irish pop/rock duo, Norah Nilserb.”

 

Harry laughed. “That’s a stupid name for a band.”

 

Niall shrugged. “We though people would think it was Gaelic and cool.”

 

Harry laughed again. “You know I’m from Cheshire, right? Technically Great Manchester. Could fancy a trip home. Monday?” Niall grinned and nodded.

 

“I’ve actually got some business in Manchester on Monday,” he agreed. 

 

Harry smiled. “I missed you.” Niall let out a deep breath and launched himself at Harry, kissing him immediately and knocking the stupid panama hat off his head with the force of their embrace.

 

“Missed you,” Niall replied. “Love you.” 

 

Harry grinned widely as the train pulled up. “Going to South Ken tonight,” he said, pulling Niall along. “My boyfriend’s flat is the new _Cockfosters_.”

 

Niall grimaced. “Oh my God, Harry. Terrible.”

 

Harry laughed and grinned. “Lets take a cab to King Cross or Heathrow on Monday, yeah? To Manchester? I hate the bloody Piccadilly line.”

 

Niall rolled his eyes and pulled Harry close again.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hey. I'm at nylonla.tumblr.com!


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